


It was There, I Saw it in Your Eyes

by borrowed_veins



Category: One Direction
Genre: Fluff, Homeless Louis, M/M, Short & Sweet, architect Harry, home inspired, just a quick bit of fic, seriously this is so fluffy, to get back into the swing of things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6837280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowed_veins/pseuds/borrowed_veins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are two strangers in a big city who just can't seem to stop running into each other, and finding home in each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was There, I Saw it in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thank you to [onedcupoftea](http://onedcupoftea.tumblr.com/) for her wonderful help getting me through indecision and technical difficulties. She is a brave, lovely soul. Remaining mistakes are mine alone.
> 
> Disclaimer: Fiction

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Harry said, probably too loudly, as he winced in sympathy, realizing he had stood on someone’s foot. One second he’d been fiddling with the exposure on his camera, and the next he was nearly toppling over. He had a habit of getting wrapped up in his own head and losing track of the world around him, and his center of gravity wasn’t that great at the best of times. One time, while he was busy thinking about a vacation his family had taken to the south of France, he tripped over the memory of the sand at the beach.

Jumping back, he immediately knocked over a cup full of change that had been collecting on the sidewalk in front of the now-likely-bruised (Harry winced internally) person. That also was not unusual for Harry, whose long limbs tended to cause a domino effect of breaks and falls. He was not so much a bull in a china shop as a tornado in the Midwestern United States. He ducked down to pick up the change with clumsy fingers, cheeks burning red when his short nails couldn’t grip the thin coins on the pavement. The stranger reached out to help collect the coins and the few bills that had spilled, his grimy fingernails scraping across the cement.

“Bloody tourists. Never watch where they’re fuckin’ going.” So focused trying to sheepishly pick up the man’s belongings, Harry was almost surprised when the stranger he had trampled on spoke. He was even more surprised by the tenor of the voice, simultaneously gruff and impossibly soft. Harry wondered momentarily if it was his own preconceptions that made the voice somehow surprising to him, that he wouldn’t expect something so soft coming from a man seated on the sidewalk of a bridge, bundled up in clothing that doesn’t quite look washed, and facial hair long past the point of scruff. He wanted to chastise himself for stereotyping this figure. But no, Harry thought, it wasn’t just that the soft voice came from such a grungy figure – it was that it existed at all on earth, on the same plane as Harry. Surely such soft, silky tones belonged somewhere up in the clouds?

It clearly made his brain short circuit, just a bit. 

“I’m not.” Harry was only half aware of the words coming out of his mouth, but cognizant enough to recognize that enough time had passed since the stranger’s murmured words for his own comment to seem apropos of nothing and near unintelligible. Harry did his best to refrain from clearing his throat awkwardly, but a strangled sound somehow still made its way out of his mouth. 

When the stranger looked up at him quizzically, however, he decided that he was infinitely indebted to this mouth of his for speaking without his permission. The comment caused the stranger to look up at him and meet his eye - Harry had never seen such clear blue eyes. “A tourist, I mean. I’m not a tourist.” A pause. The stranger continued staring at Harry, expressionless. “Well, I’m not looking where I’m stepping, either. That much became evident as soon as I stood on your foot. But I guess you already pointed that out.”

The stranger was young, around Harry’s age, or maybe just a bit older. Harry was standing close enough that when he inhaled, he could tell that the man was unwashed, and the hair on the man’s head appear somehow both greasy and a lovely shade of sandy brown. Harry recognized these facts peripherally, unable to draw too much attention away from the man’s eyes. The clear blue appeared to be more than just a color, but like a bright blue light shining with life. Or twinkling, maybe. But perhaps that twinkle was a spark of laughter, silent in the stranger’s throat, but unsuppressable. It seeped from his eyes like the light of a star.

Harry briefly considered that this was the first time he found someone’s eyes to _seep_ in an attractive way.

The stranger waited a beat before answering, “What are you doing with that thing, then?” He gestured toward the camera in Harry’s hands. “Are you some kind of photographer?”

“Oh! You mean why am I taking photos of a national landmark, the kind of building that interests tourists but generally is barely noticed by locals, if I am, in fact, a local, as well?”

“Uh, yeah, mate. That’s exactly what I’m asking.” The barest hint of a smirk graced the stranger’s lips. Harry wondered how the same eyes that had at first appeared so hard and distant could suddenly look so kind. Harry almost dared to call them fond. He soon found his mouth to be making words without his permission, again.

“Well, I’m an architecture student. Or at least, I will be. I’m only in my first month of the program, but the goal is to one day become a full-blown architect. For now though, I’m just doing an intro course. The professor has asked us to go around the city and photograph the buildings that inspire us. Well, she technically just asked us to list them, but I thought photographing them would be a lot more effective. I’m not great at describing things; I tend to ramble.” Harry fiddled with the strap of his camera. Contrary to what Niall believed, he was generally aware of it when his mouth would go off on a ramble without his brain’s full consent. Just because he was aware of it, though, didn’t mean he was particularly good at controlling it. He attempted to keep the blush from his cheeks, standing awkwardly in front of this difficult-to-read stranger. 

Niall usually didn’t let him go on for so long once he would get stuck in a ramble.

The stranger stood up slowly, movements a blend of youthful energy and the careful creaking of a decrepit body, and he moved to stand on the sidewalk next to Harry. Instead of turning to look at Harry, however, he turned to face the building out across the water. 

“Okay, Mr. Architect, but why this building? Why Parliament?” The stranger still had a hint of a smile across his thin lips, but Harry felt himself wilt a little, regardless.

“I know it’s one of the biggest tourist attractions in the city, second maybe to Big Ben, so it’s a bit of a cliché, but that’s part of the attraction, I guess. It’s impressive. It was built centuries ago, but here we are talking about how popular it is, how people come from all over the globe to do exactly what you thought I was doing, to just look at it and take pictures of it so they can look at it some more once they leave the city” Harry’s voice trailed off a bit, as he sought out the best way to phrase his next thought. Unlike Liam, though, who usually jumped right in with a response as soon as Harry took a breath, this stranger seemed to know what Harry wasn’t done yet. He waited patiently while Harry searched for his words. “It’s just a building, but it has come to mean more, because of politics, good or bad, just because it was sturdy enough, and timeless enough, to have been the actual physical location where history was made.” Harry could hear his voice getting firmer, more passionate, but felt unable to stop and take another breath.

“Hey,” the stranger twitched a shoulder, almost like he was about to put an arm around Harry before catching himself. He pulled his hand into the sleeve of his greenish-grey parka, underneath which Harry could just barely make out the top of a black band tee. “I wasn’t trying to take the piss. I really was just curious.” Harry knew that people always say that you can hear a person’s smile in their voice, but he suddenly thought that it was never quite as true as it was with this stranger. It was almost like the stranger’s smile became disembodied, a gelatinous substance that hovered in the air around them, coating the sound waves and transporting it directly into his ears.

He might have seen a porno like that once, which he had since tried to forget.

Harry cleared his throat. He and the stranger both stared across the water as the last vestiges of sunlight cast a golden glow on the gothic building. 

“What’s your name, Mr. Architect?”

“Harry. Harry Styles. What’s yours?” The stranger didn’t say anything for a moment, and then proceeded as though Harry hadn’t asked a question at all.

“Well, Harry Styles, I certainly see what you’re saying about that building. However, you’re right about it being a cliché.” The lilt of the stranger’s voice made it clear he was teasing, but this time he didn’t stop himself from nudging Harry with his shoulder, which hit somewhere around Harry’s bicep. Harry smiled softly, not turning to look toward the soft, fluffy head of the stranger that he could see out of his peripheral vision. “Architecture, huh? I didn’t think people actually did that – not in real life, anyway.”

“Someone’s gotta do it. Buildings don’t just pop up from the ground with enough water and sunlight,” Harry said, with a smirk of his own. He briefly thought about asking the stranger what he studies, before he remembered that they’re not on the University campus, and it would likely be rude to ask a seemingly homeless person about higher education. Not that he wanted to presume.

“I was going to study drama, if I ever went to University,” the stranger said, seemingly reading Harry’s mind. “That was the plan, at least. I’m not sure that I would go for it, now, if I had the chance. It’s great and all –acting, that is- but it seems a bit short term. Sure, you can entertain people for the length of a play, but then it’s over, and they leave. Go home. Probably forget all about the show.”

“I don’t know about that,” Harry found himself saying. He wasn’t exactly sure when this conversation became philosophical. “Powerful plays, powerful acting – that kind of thing sticks with a person. Four hundred years later students all over the world are still studying Shakespeare’s plays because they mean something to people. A lot of somethings, I guess, to a lot of people. Seeing the right play at the right time can change a person’s whole perspective.”

“Are you speaking from experience, Harry the Architect?” Somehow the stranger’s smile became a bit more gentle, eyes softer. “I think I would study psychology, if I were to go to Uni now. I’d like to help people, and that seems like a much more direct way to do it. Maybe I could prevent some kid out there from ending up out here like me. Help the kids that feel like the world is on their shoulders. The ones that feel like they’re made of granite, or maybe made of mist, like they’ll disappear as soon as someone stops looking.

“I, uh,” the stranger started before cutting himself off. After a breath, he tried again, “I understand that desire, the feeling deep in your gut, almost like a desperation to make a mark on the world, to leave something of you behind that will be remembered throughout time, even if you as a person will be forgotten almost immediately after you die.”

The stranger suddenly looked up at Harry with startled eyes, as though he had not meant to say those things. Harry sort of understood the feeling. He couldn’t say that he’d ever struck up a conversation quite like this one with someone he met randomly, literally on the streets. The stranger coughed. “Not that you, specifically, will be forgotten. I’m sure you’ll live a long life with plenty of grandchildren, and a few buildings under your belt that will stand for centuries.” The stranger smiled, just a little bit awkwardly, before moving to walk away. 

“Wait,” Harry called, grabbing onto the stranger’s hand. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Louis Tomlinson.” 

“It was nice to meet you, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry said, as Louis walked away again.

“You too, Harry Styles,” Louis called over his shoulder.

\+ + + 

Harry couldn’t say that he understood it, but that conversation he had with a complete stranger, a homeless man, for all he knew, stuck with him. Over his three years in his architecture program, as his classmates all flittered around modern design and sharp lines, Harry found himself more and more drawn to historical architecture. He chose stone over glass, gaudy details over minimalism, and added columns wherever he could - homoerotic implications be damned. He felt like he had found his vision. The inspiration he felt that day, from those structures that withstood time and from the boy that just wanted to be remembered, never left him.

In a department interested in the future of design, clean lines and bold shapes, Harry’s taste was somewhat polarizing. He passed some classes by mere points, but was a favorite in others. Although he worried that his portfolio at graduation would make him nearly unemployable, he managed to find an internship at a well-known firm. Harry had been practically dripping sweat onto the interview table, but his boss said that it took guts to even bring such a portfolio into her glass-walled, minimalist office, and she’d hired him on the spot. Harry had never felt more like a character in a movie.

It was his internship that led to him reuniting with Louis. Four years after their initial meeting, Harry was asked to run to the permit office to request a copy of a form from the file of a condominium unit designed by the firm a few years prior. It was a bit of a menial task, and probably could have been done over the phone, except that it was a low priority for the permit office, and Harry might have to dig through some files on his own. Harry didn’t mind being assigned the task, even though he knew that it was because he had only been interning there for about five months and was thus still the new guy, because it meant that he had the opportunity to get out of the office for a few minutes. He loved his job, but he still hadn’t gotten used to spending so many hours of his day indoors – his office area didn’t even have any windows. Frankly, he enjoyed the change of scenery. It also didn’t hurt that the administrative building where the permit office was located was made of beautiful stone with high arches along the ceilings. 

It was when he was looking up at the ceiling, not watching where he was walking, that he slammed directly into another body. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” The words were out of his mouth before he even registered whom he had run into. There was, however, something vaguely familiar about the brown mop of hair that he could see as the person looked down at some papers they’d dropped.

“No worries, mate, I wasn’t looking where I was walking, either.”

Harry had bent down to help retrieve the stranger’s papers, but his hand froze upon hearing that voice. He was certain that he knew it, and he was finally able to place that mop of hair in his memory. 

“Maybe one day I will bump into you without actually bumping into you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Finally, after four full years, blue eyes met green once again. 

“You know me?” Louis’ voice was high, just like Harry remembered, but it had matured somewhat, sounding just a touch raspier. He paused then, gazing at Harry, as though trying to place his face, as well, but it didn’t take long before a smile broke out on his face. “Harry the Architect. How are you?”

“Amazing – I got lucky with an internship right after graduation, so maybe one day that nickname with be accurate.”

“Still architecting? Incredible.” The smile that broke out on Louis’ face appeared to consume all of his features, as though the smile was something emerging from within him, rather than a stretch of muscle beneath skin. “I just can’t believe you remember meeting me. That was years ago.”

Harry cleared his throat and willed a blush from his cheeks. “This is going to sound totally pretentious and creepy, but to be completely honest, that day solidified my artistic vision – to the extent that I have one.”

Louis’ smile at that was simply breathtaking; he appeared unfazed by the pretentiousness and creepiness. “I helped with that, then?” 

Harry could only nod, faced with Louis’ eyes shining so brightly. He cleared his throat. “You look well, Louis. You’re getting, uh, back on your feet, then?” Harry didn’t want to offend, but he was inexplicably glad to see that the light that had shone from those blue eyes was now emanating from Louis’s skin, now smoothed across his forehead and filled out under his cheekbones. He looked healthy, and Harry’s heart felt warmer for it, though Louis was little more than a stranger, even now.

Louis’ smile was small, but the light didn’t leave his eyes. “Yes, actually. These papers I’ve just dropped everywhere are from the housing division. I’ve been in government housing for about a year and a half now, but I’ve had a steady job for a while. I’m going to start renting a place with one of my mates from work. It’ll be nice to go off of assistance and have a bit more space, even if I’m splitting it.” 

Harry could hear, even though Louis was speaking quietly, barely above a whisper, that there was pride in Louis’ voice. Harry found it amazing, how neither of them knew anything about the other, and yet here they were, still kneeling down on the marble floor outside the housing office, just meters away from the permit office, smiling like loons because they were just so inexplicably proud of each other.

“So this job of yours, do you have to go there tonight?”

“No, I work mornings. It’s a warehouse, where I work. I’m not actually great at the heavy lifting, but I’m pretty good with the fork lift. I think they’re going to promote me to manager soon.” Louis smiled and shook his head, seemingly at himself. “Sorry, something about you just makes me overshare, Harry the Architect.”

Harry grinned and didn’t mention that he feels the same away about Louis, lest he get off track. “I get off work in about two hours. Would you like to go to dinner? Maybe just a coffee, if you’d prefer?”

“You want to take me out?” Louis blinked, and Harry briefly wondered if it was possible to become blinded by fluorescent light reflecting off long, luscious eyelashes. “Why?” 

The confusion in Louis’ voice didn’t sound like suspicion, and Harry thanked his lucky stars.

“What are the chances that we would stumble -literally- upon each other again, after almost four years, in a city this size? Maybe I just don’t want to lose you again.”

So that evening, Harry put on his least ripped up pair of tight black jeans and a bright orange, striped button up. He briefly considered buttoning the shirt up all the way before deciding to go all in. Or all out, he might say. He didn’t know if he would see Louis again for another three years, after all. 

He knew, logically, that he had only had two conversations with Louis, and there was really no reason to think that a full-length date, much less the possibility of a follow up date, would go well. They knew next to nothing about each other. They might have completely different interests, opinions, personalities. For all intents and purposes, he should just expect that the night would be a disaster – or at best a pleasant conversation that leads to nothing else – except he just couldn’t shake the feeling he would get deep in his chest whenever Louis was around. 

Which has now escalated to a feeling he gets even when thinking about being around Louis. Maybe even just thinking about thinking about the feeling. But, he thought, he didn’t want to get carried away.

“Harry!” He heard from across the diner. Thankfully Louis didn’t leave him waiting for too long after their pre planned meet up time. Or all night, for that matter. 

“I’m so glad you came,” Harry said, standing up to meet Louis. 

“Are you kidding? There’s no way I could pass up the opportunity to meet up with the ever elusive Harry the Architect – on purpose, no less,” Louis joked, although sincerity shone from his eyes.

Harry let out a cackle and was instantly relieved that they at least shared a sense of humor. Maybe the date wouldn’t be a disaster after all. 

“Thanks for suggesting this place. I’ve never been here, and the atmosphere is really nice. Laid back.” Harry did not mention that the reason he had never been to that particular diner was because it was about forty-five minutes out from where he spent most of his time, near his apartment and his internship. As soon as Louis had mentioned the place, Harry decided that Louis’ enthusiasm about the burgers was worth the extra time.

“I never would have tried it, either, except it’s right down the street from one of my first job sites when I started some construction work. At that time, I was just so excited to have a paycheck again that I decided to treat myself to a hot lunch one day, and this is the place I found. It’s been a while since I’ve been back here, though, since I started trying to save up my money for the flat with Zayn.” He was interrupted by the server coming by to take their orders – a standard cheeseburger for Louis, and a mushroom and Swiss cheese burger for Harry. 

“Zayn is the mate you told me about earlier?” Harry asked, picking up their thread of conversation.

“Yep, that’s the one. I met him once I started at the warehouse. He’s a good lad.”

“I’m glad you have someone like that in your life,” Harry said quietly. He was simultaneously certain that those kinds of statements were generally reserved for people you knew a lot better than he and Louis knew each other, and that he really _was_ glad, as though this stranger’s happiness meant more to him than it really should. He couldn’t explain it.

“I’m really excited to move into that place with him. I don’t want to make it sound like there’s anything wrong with having to live in government housing, and I’m nothing less than grateful that I live in a country that provides that type of assistance,” Louis paused, eyeing Harry as though daring him to disagree. Harry only smiled. “But there’s something inexplicably satisfying about picking and renting your own flat.”

“I think I could see that, definitely. It’s such a big deal, and not at all something any amount of formal education can prepare you for. After uni, I got a place with my friend Liam Payne, and it felt massive, even just compared to living in the dorms.”

“Liam Payne? From Wolverhampton, by chance?” Harry nodded. “No shit. I knew him forever ago, before I dropped out of school and came to London. We met at one of those choir competitions, since we didn’t really live near each other or anything. I lost touch with him when I didn’t have access to technology anymore. I didn’t know he was living in London now, too.” Louis spoke quickly, grinning at the thought of his old friend.

“That’s amazing. What a small world,” Harry said, smiling. He cleared his throat and sobered a little. “I hope you don’t mind me asking – and of course you don’t have to answer or anything – I would never want you to feel uncomfortable or like -”

“You want to know why I was living on the streets,” Louis said, eyes knowing. “I don’t mind talking about that, at least not to you, Mr. Architect. Something about you just makes me want to open up.” Louis said with exaggerated drama and then chuckled to himself. Harry couldn’t tell if it was to hide some awkwardness he was feeling. “It’s not really an interesting story, or anything like that. Nothing too dramatic. I was young when I left home, and I had some money in my pocket to start me off, but I had a shitty job and a shitty flat. It was a mix of naivety and bad luck, but it seemed like all at once the job fell through and my roommate just bailed on the lease. I obviously couldn’t rent on my own, especially because I was finding that my work history –or virtual lack thereof- didn’t make me the most employable, and I couldn’t find another roommate on such short notice.” Louis shrugged, “that’s really the whole story.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to take his cue from Louis, who seemed pretty calm and unaffected, but he was never particularly great at controlling his facial expressions.

“Go ahead and ask whatever it is you’re thinking. I’m sure I’ve heard it before,” Louis chuckled again. He truly didn’t seem bothered by Harry’s inquisitiveness.

“Why couldn’t you go home?” Harry braved the question, almost holding his breath, certain that this was not exactly first date conversation material.

“I have six younger siblings and my mum was a single mother at the time. I didn’t want her to have to pay my debts, and I certainly didn’t want to go back with my tail between my legs after being gone less than a year.” Louis laughed a little. “Like I said, I was young. It didn’t even feel like an option.”

“I can’t imagine what that was like for you. It must be scary to not have a roof over your head or a door to lock at night.” Harry felt vaguely like kicking himself for sounding ignorant and privileged, but Louis didn’t seem to mind.

“The hard part isn’t not having a place to go at night; it’s getting stuck in that mindset. I got comfortable, stopped applying for jobs for a long time, felt like what people thought of me when they saw me was who I really was – just some bum. I got into a rut thinking that I didn’t deserve a soft place to lay my head at night.”

“What changed?” Both of their voices had gone quiet.

“I started thinking about the future again.” Louis paused. “I don’t want to make it seem like that’s all there is to it. Nobody deserves to live on the streets, and I’m certain that many people have the will required to get back on their feet, as you might say, and it’s a deeper systemic problem keeping them there. I recognize that I got lucky. Someone hired me at that construction job, and then later at the warehouse job. If I save up enough, I might even go to uni for psychology. A real success story, I am.” Louis winked.

Harry suddenly remembered the conversation on the bridge, when Louis confessed to wanting to help people. Harry grinned, looking Louis in the eye and seeing the same glimmer of hope that he saw those years ago. There was something else mixed in, though, a confidence that seemed entirely new, and truly beautiful. The tension that had been growing during the heavy conversation suddenly dissolved. 

“But enough about me, Mr. Architect. Tell me about your internship.” 

\+ + + 

“Here with us to cut the ribbon, one of the brightest young minds of his generation, and a native of our beautiful community, the architect of our new Holmes Chapel Public Library, Mr. Harry Styles.” The mayor’s voice rang through the park outside the building, bouncing off the stone walls and resonating in Harry’s ears. At the age of twenty eight, he felt truly lucky to have had the opportunity to play such a big role in the design of the building. Of course it was true that he helped, but the mayor overstated his responsibility just a bit. He was still at the architectural firm in London, still only a junior partner, so every step of the way he had to seek the head architect’s approval on every detail on his plan. Sure, it was only because of his employment at the firm that the town was able to get their design from one of the top architectural firms in the country, and sure, he agreed to work at a discounted rate so that his small town could afford the firm’s design - but he really was only the junior architect. 

Besides, he was only here because his boss had a cruise to board the same weekend as the ribbon cutting. Even so, he couldn’t stop the smile forming on his face as he walked across the makeshift stage to accept the comically large pair of shears. Standing there beside the mayor, looking out over the same park where his mother had brought him to learn to ride his bicycle without training wheels, packed full of community members that had come to see the unveiling, he suddenly could not remember if he was expected to make a speech. He felt the words bubbling up inside of him, anyway.

“I truly cannot express how lucky I feel that I had the opportunity to contribute to the building standing before you. Growing up here, I have many memories of the old library, of my mother bringing me in to get my first library card, of my sister dragging me by the hand through the seemingly endless aisles. I was as horror-stuck as anyone when I heard about the fire earlier this year, and I knew immediately how important the re-build would be. Libraries are such vital elements of every community, even now, in the age of e-readers and the internet; they’re a place of education, of fantasy, of growing. When I first took on the project, I learned from our wonderful librarians, Barbara and Betty, just how much growing had been going on – Holmes Chapel had outgrown the old library. Although I had planned to keep much of the architecture the same in the re-build as in the old library, I realized that a much bigger redesign was in order. The building in front of you is significantly different from the one you remember, but I hope you find that it retained its ever-expanding heart and soul.”

With that, Harry turned and snipped the ribbon and applause rang through the park. The townspeople took it as their cue to head toward the large, double doors to the left of the stage and begin exploring the new building. After handing the shears back to the mayor, and accepting his congratulations, Harry clambered down the steps of the small stage, where he was met by his family. 

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” Anne murmured into his ear as she hugged him tight. Gemma had even made the trip out from America to witness the biggest moment of his career to date – even though Harry repeatedly reminded her that he wasn’t even the lead architect on the project. Junior Architect, it wasn’t that hard to remember.

Finally, Louis approached for his turn at hugging Harry. He buried a hand into Harry’s neatly styled curls and held him tight for just a moment. Louis pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye, a mischievous smirk dancing across his features. 

“You know, you could really have a future at this. Travel the country designing libraries. Maybe even the whole world, once other countries start catching wind of your name. Who knew your penchant for stone and columns would come in handy, what with the need for non-flammable structures, and all.”

Louis grinned at Harry, who had a slightly frozen, vacant look on his face. 

“What is it? You look nervous. Did it just hit you that you spoke in front of all those-” Louis began, but Harry cut him off.

“No, no. It’s not that. Just, um, speaking of the future. Ah. Let’s go. I want to show you something.” 

“You want to leave? But I thought there were going to be snacks after the tour…” Louis trailed off as Harry dragged him by the hand toward their car.

They arrived back to Harry’s childhood home in minutes, where Harry led him up to the guest room where they would be sleeping the night.

“Alright, what’s got you all in a state,” Louis said, as Harry deposited him on the edge of the bed, before moving to rummage through the satchel he had brought with him. 

At last, it appeared that Harry found what he was looking for, and he pulled it from its folder. Looking at Louis, he turned it around in his hands a few times, opening and closing his mouth as though he couldn’t decide how to lead into whatever it was he wanted to say. He eventually just handed the sheet to Louis wordlessly. 

“What’s this, some new design you’ve started for work? Why has it got you so nervous, then?” Louis’ voice trailed off a bit as his eyes found the label on the design, his head tilting just a touch to the side.

_H + L Home_

“You’re designing a house? For us?”

Harry’s eyes were nearly as wide as Louis’, when he finally looked up from the design.

“It’s not done yet, of course,” Harry began to explain, “because I obviously will want your input every step of the way. I just know how well your practice has been doing, especially these last few quarters. I don’t want to presume, but I think by the time this initial bit is all done, you’ll be ready to split a down payment. I know it’s always been important to you. After all, it’s not just my house. It’s our home. Or, well, it will be, if you’ll have it. If you’ll have me.”

Harry had seen Louis cry all of twice in his life, when his grandfather died shortly after they started dating, and after he got off the phone with his mother, when she had told him that Dan had filed for divorce. He immediately dropped to his knees in front of Louis when he saw that telltale glisten well up in his eyes. 

“God, I’m such a dork,” Louis whispered, wiping at his eyes. “You’re such a dork. Of course I’ll have you.” Louis smiled at Harry, voice the softest the younger man had ever heard it. “I can’t believe you’re building us a home.”

As it turned out, the construction job that Louis had worked before the warehouse job and university meant that, while Harry certainly did most of the designing, he played a much bigger role in actually building the house. He even took a course in electrical engineering – between sessions with his clients – so that he could do the wiring for the entire house on his own. 

He just needed someone from the city to come down and verify his work. 

They moved into the house on Louis’ thirty second birthday, just days after submitting the adoption papers. As they stood together in the entryway, Louis’ arm around Harry’s waist, Harry murmured in his ear, “We’re going to have grandchildren running around this place one day. We’ll sit them down and tell them about this place, about how their granddads built it, from the first idea to the final brick. They’ll grow up making memories here, of playing with their cousins, of being spoiled by their Grandpa Lou. Maybe, one day in the far distant future, when we’re gone, the house will go to one of them. Maybe they’ll stand in this very spot and tell their own children about their great-grandpas Lou and H, who infused their love into every smear of mortar, holding each brick perfectly in place for years and years to come.”

Louis reached up a hand to cup Harry’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone, and brought their lips together for a gentle kiss. The brush of lips reminded them that even if the house crumbles tomorrow, the home they built within each other would always stand tall.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a quick piece of fluff to _try_ to get me back into the habit of writing more, as it's been about two years since I've written any fic at all.
> 
> Say hi/tell me how it went on [tumblr](http://softpunklouies.tumblr.com/)


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